


Bloodred Manhunt

by KitsuneMask



Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, M/M, also assumes that the SMP is a realistic universe, based on the Manhunt videos as well, dream smp au, should note im writing for the characters not the actors themselves lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:56:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28360530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitsuneMask/pseuds/KitsuneMask
Summary: Sometimes, the four of them think of a world that doesn’t exist. A world in which they hunt Dream.(DreamSMP AU)
Relationships: slight Dream/George
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	Bloodred Manhunt

**Author's Note:**

> I've only recently gotten into the DreamSMP roleplay and my god do I love the story behind it. I especially love all the animatics and fanart that's come of the series, and thought it about time I try to write something for the SMP stuff too. Should note though that I'm relatively new to all the lore and stuff behind the server so, while I have been looking at the wiki to make sure to keep things as accurate as possible, I might have missed some stuff ;_; 
> 
> That said, I tried to write this within the world of the SMP so it should also be worth noting that I wrote the characters as I interpret them within this universe considering the events I've read about

El Rapids is calm, tonight. The nation is peaceful, the most peaceful it’s been since its neighboring nation, L’Manberg has ushered in an era of quiet existence. Of course, peace hasn’t come without wounds to lick. Lmanberg is struggling to rebuild itself, craters still evident from the days of TNT bombing done by the anarchists of the world. The anarchists who’ve reaped destruction in order to overthrow Jschlatt - Dream and his band of mercenaries, Technoblade and his swinging sword - have all since departed, haunting the borders of those still working to rebuild themselves from the ashes of a countryside war.

Dream.

Sometimes, Sapnap thinks of him, of the man who wears a mask on his face and hides himself underneath dressings of green. The man was a wanderer, a phantom who embraced becoming involved in nation conflicts, but he was also a mysterious figure, one whose presence brought about both the flame of war and the chaos of anarchy. 

In fleeting moments made clear only through the thoughts of his mind, Sapnap thinks of memories that have never happened: of chasing Dream across plains of grass and seas of blue, wielding an axe in his hands and cloaked in iron armor. He calls the man’s name, but the voice is taunting, as if he’s daring Dream to stop running, to turn around, to face him. 

And then Dream does, and he feels a striking sense of fear slash through him. The glare in Dream’s eyes, the grin stretched across his face - full of confidence even when he’s on the brink of death - as well as the way his sword clashes through the air, cleaving through armor and shields hoisted upwards, leaves Sapnap shaking.

It’s as if he’s seeing something that doesn’t exist, living a life that isn’t his own and mistaking it for the world he lives in. Oftentimes, he looks down at his hands when he sees the visage of Dream before him, waiting to see an axe brandished in blood and feel the thrill of chasing down prey in his veins. Other times, he senses that he’s not alone in these hunts, that there are others alongside him, that he and them are racing through the forests together in pursuit of one man, calling for Dream to face them, only to fall back when he does. 

In those faces, the ones that fight alongside him, he sees the likes of George, the current Vice President of El Rapids, as well as someone he holds a tentative relationship with, being his self-appointed bodyguard and all. The man looks happier in these visions, no longer worn down by Dream’s oppression or the weight of a king tossed from his throne. He looks free and enlightened, with a sword in his hands and a name on his lips, the call of “Oh Dream!” spouted from his lips as he chases after the man who runs like a flickering illusion from their grasp.

He also sees Antfrost and BadBoyHalo, capturing sight of them as they wind their way through oak groves and off mountains eroded by blasts of TNT, sees them as they sit waiting in a Nether fortress and as Antfrost hands them all armor made from enchanted diamond, watching as Dream’s face twists in horror as they bare down upon them.

Sometimes, Sapnap thinks about bringing these visions up to George, thinks of talking with the man (his former king, now vice president) if he too shares these memories. But he doesn’t, thinking them a fleeting fantasy that his mind has conjured in the wake of Dream’s oppression. Because isn’t that what this is? A mere fantasy meant to appease the part of him that wants to enact vengeance on Dream, to tear the man down from his pedestal of power in order to put George on the throne he’s been toppled from. After all, Sapnap has made a promise to his friend to do so but until Dream is gone, until the man is vanquished and dethroned, then all he has to look forward to is waiting for Dream to be denied his power at long last.

So, while Sapnap thinks of these memories, of these illusions painted so brilliantly in his mind, manifested from the fears and trauma of facing a man who has betrayed them, he continues to live his life wondering. What is it like, in this other world? Why does he chase after Dream, and why does the man run from him?

The answer to that question is never clear. 

~~~

It’s been weeks since George has been dethroned, It’s been weeks since he’s lost his crown, been weeks since he’s been chased away into the refuge of El Rapids, made Vice President, and left to decide the fate of a nation that isn’t quite like home.

It’s a bit saddening, in a way. In some respects, he wonders if this is how Wilbur felt, if this is how the man who fell from grace from his nation, ripped away from his nation only to bomb it in the end. George isn’t quite to the latter part yet but sometimes he feels the bloodthirst for redemption swell inside him, wanting to occupy a throne now stolen by a man in a mask.

Dream.

There are times where George’s mind still wanders to him, the man he called - still wants to call - his friend. Dream was a mystery - one wrapped in the eggshells of demons and power beyond comparison. Unlike Technoblade, who is still mortal, Dream is an enigma wrapped in a shell of secrecy, protected by mysteries only he himself is privy too.

George fought alongside the man, once. Had raised his sword in defense of Pogtopia, had run through the bridges of Manberg, declaring war on anarchists. He’d depended on Dream to carry them to victory, had watched as the man had raised his hands in surrender and led them all to a drunken dictator who was soon to be slain.

It’s in thoughts like these that he sometimes stumbles upon a delusion of something else. When he is at Dream’s side, looking at the slope of the man’s back, he sees something else sometimes: the flickering flashes of a man running from him, caught up in a whirlwind of excitement and laughs as George chases after him, calling his name as if the man is the only thing to set his sights upon.

He does this with others beside him, recognizing the faces of Sapnap, his loyal bodyguard, and the likes of BadBoyHalo and Antfrost, who come from the Badlands. The four of them work as a team against Dream, chasing him down through caves and swimming through rivers just to get to him. They’re hunting him like prey, chasing him down the way they might Dreamons, and yet Dream seems unconcerned with this fact, even enjoying their chorus of teasing taunts as he races through the world in search of a destination.

How carefree they all are, in these visions. How lovely it must be to romp around a world that’s full of never-ending surprises, to resurrect again and again under the guide of a compass in their hands to slay the man whose playful mockery urges them to do their best. There is no war in these visions, no men left dead forever or politics to handle. There is no lone wolf wanderer whose interference in nation affairs has brought about both war and heartbreak, isolation and manipulation. Instead, it is all about the thrill of the hunt, the sound of wind in their ears and the way their footsteps _tuh-tap_ ceaselessly on dirt and cobblestone.

In this world, this fantasy, George feels closer to Dream, feels as if he has not met a man whose carefree nature hurts others so easily and is instead watching the apparition of a man whose mischievous cunning gives him the upperhand in a never-ending battle to reach the end. 

But the world he sees is just that: a fantasy. One where cold reality comes toppling down the moment he thinks of his own dethronement, of the way Dream kicked him from power and had the gall to sneer at him for it. 

Even still, negotiations are being made with the man to settle such an affair. Dream is cold and self-interested, but he knows how to make people like him. He’s arrogantly charming, in that regard, charismatic even despite his injustices, and it’s little wonder that George still finds himself swayed by the man despite Sapnap’s warnings, agreeing to bargain even while realizing his loathing of the way the man carries power so ceaselessly in his hands.

A breath. 

The wind that whispers from his lips condenses into an icy cold, white particles drifting upwards into a cold night sky. George is walking through the territory of his nation, patrolling the borders of its main city, when he comes upon a curious sight. Sapnap, always a late sleeper, is sitting on the railing of one of the many staircases that line the cityscape, peering up into a nightsky. The man is seemingly unaware of his presence, pursing his lips as if to reminiscence on something.

“Señor Sapnap,” he addresses the man. 

Sapnap looks over to him. “Señor George,” the man greets. “What’s got you up so late, Vice President?”

“Dreams. Ones that feel almost too real.” He sighs. “You’ll probably laugh at me but sometimes...I have dreams of us hunting down Dream. With BadBoyHalo and Antfrost, too. We’re together, hunting him, although I never know how or why.”

Sapnap’s eyes widen. George frowns at him, before the man hurries to speak. “I’ve had those dreams too.” He runs his fingers through strands of black hair. “To be honest, I thought I was going crazy for having them. They were so vivid and…”

“And it feels like it actually happened.”

“Yeah.” Sapnap sighs. “So I’m not crazy then.”

“No, you’re not.” George grimaces. “And I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

“Maybe a little of both.”

“Hm?”

“I mean...chasing down Dream, hunting him down...him, the most powerful guy on the planet? What are we thinking?”

“And yet it looked like we were having fun.”

“Mm. It’s even crazier to know Dream was having fun too. If we tried hunting down that man here in this world, he’d lash out at us and make us pay for thinking of taking his life from him.”

There’s a pause, one long and uneasy, as if the shared reminiscence held between them is something almost forbidden to talk about.

Then:

“Do you think BadBoyHalo and Antfrost remember it too?”

George looks at his bodyguard. Then pauses. “I’d love to ask them one day,” he says.

“Me too,” Sapnap says.

Then they go quiet again.

~~~

BadBoyHalo is plagued by nightmares.

Well, he calls them nightmares when they’re really dreams of another reality.

In them, he’s working alongside three others - one of whom is Antfrost, the other two he can’t remember - and they’re all working together to hunt down Dream, chasing him again and again through a world full of unknowns in the hopes of slaying the man who has a life that seems almost as infinite as theirs.

This world is fleeting, one full of hazy visions that seem more like distorted pictures than it does the tale of something grand and illustrious. He struggles to cope with these dreams, often feeling their absence weighing heavily on him despite their mirth. Sometimes, he even longs to be in this world, to escape the burdens of the Badlands, of the nation-state wars that consume the world, and to be free, to run through sunflower meadows and up pillaring mountains to enjoy that which is no longer (and never was) in his grasp.

There's something wrong about these dreams, too. Something he can never put his finger on. But isn't there something wrong with a world in which Dream is not an enigma but prey to be hunted? Isn't there something wrong with the way BadBoyHalo wants to laugh and indulge in this fantasy, to chase after its delusions and think little of the world he is still stuck in, clinging to life and watching destruction happen all around him?

No, perhaps it's only natural to consider these dreams cruel and unnatural. For, they tell of a life he cannot have: a life where he is working alongside others for a greater goal, one where death is not an issue and where war and the flames of battle is just a faraway notion.

Sometimes, BadBoyHalo thinks he should talk about his dreams with Antfrost, to see if he's going insane or if the man shares his dreams too, maybe even knows the other two who they fight alongside in these mirages, but the man has always been sensitive to talks of dreams and nightmares, so he has never seen the idea through.

Instead, he wonders about the dreams instead. Wonders about the supposed memories he has of another world (or that which he thinks is another world, one much happier than here) and thinks about what it means to chase after a man who so proudly wears his power and cunning like a second mask on his face.

~~~

Antfrost remembers hunting Dream. Remembers the way he and three others (their names and faces left to the unknown) had pursued the man, once, in a world that is no longer coherent.

But more than anything, Antfrost remembers the fear of doing so more than anything else. The dreams he holds of hunting the man clad in green are not light-hearted and fun, but a dangerous game full of painful reckoning. 

Dream is a villain in these settings, an antagonist to be toppled in a race against time. But he is cunning too, a man of tricks and deceit, of wicked smiles and taunting calls as well as swords swung heedlessly and decisions made to take out his hunters one by one.

It’s in these visions that Antfrost recognizes the full extent of Dream’s cruelty, can see the way he acts like a playful figure only to watch the man turn around and cut down those who so carelessly get in his way.

The fear of those moments - the sheer terror of being turned upon by a man in a mask, the very same man who has helped topple governments and who has control over the young boy who dares defy him - makes Antfrost realize even more the sheer gravity of Dream’s control.

The man is inescapable: a force to be reckoned with, and a man not made to be crossed. Antfrost knows all too well that these dreams of his are a warning, and he intends to heed them.

For, he doesn’t want to end up like the ones in his dream have: cold and dead, their infinite lives stolen from them as the curtain closes on a stage bloodied in red.


End file.
